


Pick-Up Time

by WhumpTown



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Parent Dani Powell, Parent Malcolm Bright, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25157599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhumpTown/pseuds/WhumpTown
Summary: Malcolm's isn't there to pick up his son from school
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Dani Powell, Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73





	Pick-Up Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [2amEuphoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/2amEuphoria/gifts).



> this is for my pal. So that she remembers that she's an absolute delight. Who writes amazing ff and is very smart... 
> 
> on that note, sorry for hurting Malcolm again

Gil’s phone goes off in his pocket. He nearly drops everything to answer it before remember that they are not working a murder case, Dani and JT are at their desks, and Malcolm is picking up Miles. Everyone he has to worry about is covered. It has to be a telemarketer. Until it goes off in his pocket again and he hesitates before pulling it out. Not recognizing the number, he’s adamant to answer. “Lieutenant Gil Arroyo speaking.”

The good thing about Malcolm’s family and by extension the people they know is Miles got into a good school young. It’s some fancy little elementary school that Jessica screened thoroughly and Miles had to test into. Malcolm and Dani had decided a long time ago they weren’t forcing anything on Miles, especially Jessica’s ideas about proper education. But Miles expressed verbal interest in the school. Malcolm suspected his interest was in pleasing his grandmother more than anything else.

With his flashy name and father’s history, the school is very understanding of their schedule. Meaning, they hate Malcolm and they all decide not to take that personally. Miles is always picked up on time but the problem is, there are eight people in Miles’ sheet that can pick him up: JT, Tally, Ainsley, Edrisa, Gil, Jessica, Malcolm, or Dani. Any given day, it can be any of those eight people. Unless, of course, Malcolm has promised Miles he will be there to pick him up. Then, come rain or shine, hell or high water, Malcolm Bright will be waiting.

Except, today, not a soul was waiting for Miles.

“Pop-Pop?”

Gil grows very nervous, very quickly. “Miles?” Gil stops in his tracks, “Kiddo, you okay?”

Sniffling on the other side of the line, Miles grunts his affirmation. “Daddy didn’t come pick me up,” the awful little sniffle and choked sob break Gil’s heart. He was sure Malcolm left to go get Miles. He's certain. "Will you-will you come get me?" 

He pulls two individual blinds down, pulling the distance to be more pronounced so he can see into the bullpen better. Sure enough, Dani’s sitting at her desk. “Yeah,” his confusion momentarily distracts him from comforting Miles. “Yeah, I’m on my right now. Okay, kiddo?”

Miles gives a pitiful “uh-huh”. 

“I love you, buddy.”

“I love you too, Pop-Pop.” 

Gil hangs the phone up and crosses his office in a quick stride. He grabs his keys and jacket and tears off for the bullpen. “Malc0lm didn’t show up at the school.” While his statement is loud enough to make it everybody’s business, he’s trying to hurry the conversation on so he doesn’t stop and talk. “You two,” he motions to Dani and JT, pointing with his phone. “Find Malcolm, I’m going to get the baby.”

Dani is standing up from behind her desk. Her mind is taking a long moment to process everything she’s being told. Malcolm left over an hour to go get Miles. He’d pressed a kiss to her cheek, promising a glass of wine and chicken tenders when she got home. Malcolm’s wouldn’t have stopped and he certainly wouldn’t have purposely been late to get Miles.

“Why wouldn’t Malcolm have gone to get Miles?” JT asks. The cup of coffee he was nursing is now forgotten, his stomach twisted into knots. Today was supposed to be calm, go figure Malcolm couldn’t let that happen. “He said he was going to get Miles. Didn’t he, Dani?” He turns to Dani but she’s staring at Gil.

Dani nods her head. Malcolm is bad at a lot of things. He leaves the toilet seat up far too frequently for it to be an ‘on occasion’ mistake. Peanut butter sandwiches have to have the crust cut off of them. He uses 95% of their bandages and knicks himself every time he shaves. He’s bad at many things but he’s not late for Miles. Never.

“Dani.”

Gil stops just enough to regard her with a worried frown. “I’ve got Miles, okay? I need you to find Malcolm.” 

Malcolm, right. Dani nods dejectedly. “Okay.”

Gil nods, slowly. Attempting to get her going, he motions with his hands for her to get moving. 

She brushes her hand across her cheek and nods, “right, okay. We’re gonna check his normal route. He left me the car so he probably walked to the school.” She is going to handle this. One missing husband isn’t the end of the world… he gets himself into trouble all the time. It’s probably nothing.  
_________________

Malcolm is thinking about chicken tenders when a man comes out of the alley. 

In his head, he’s trying to come up with a solid number of how many he’s going to need to make. Does he buy a large bag and run the risk of Miles being in a bad mood that requires caving and giving him Kraft? Should he get fries too? Maybe he could make an afternoon of it, he and Miles can make the chicken tenders themselves. 

“You Malcolm Whitly?” 

Malcolm’s gate comes to a stuttering halt, his eyes brows knitting together. It’s not _uncommon_ for people to recognize him but usually that’s reserved for crime freaks not random brooding, mean mugged strangers at the mouth of an alleyway. Still, he’s going to be truthful. “That would be me,” he offers with a smile. He offers a hand out, “but I, for obvious reason, go by Malcolm Bright.” 

The man looks down at his hand and back up at Malcolm, unimpressed. 

Oh. Malcolm knows _this_ type. Ego crippled men whose lives revolve around getting justice for those done wrong. That justice often tastes like blood on the back of Malcolm's teeth. 

With these men 1 + 2 = 5. 

Malcolm's pain is their _justice_. As twisted and wrong as it is. 

"Your father killed-" 

Malcolm crumbles. He knows it's coming but it still hurts. "Nice right hook," he grunts, spitting the blood out of his mouth. "To who do I-" a boot crashes into his side, expelling the air in his lungs in a painful hiss. He’s given no more chances to speak. He can offer no condolence, excuse, or rebuttal. He can only take the kicks and punches that rain down on him. 

As his head takes it’s final blow- a kick aimed at his sternum that catches his chin and forces the back of his head to crack against the sidewalk- he thinks about Miles. 

He’s still so young. This pain, this life- Malcolm owes his son the chance to never have it. To never know a stranger’s pain and anger over your father’s misdeeds. 

He just hopes Miles can forgive him.  
_________________

_“Edrisa found him!_

Dani holds their son close to her chest, brushing his dark hair from his face. Asleep, he looks just like Malcolm. 

_“He’s at Saint Mary’s, he was listed as a John Doe. They thought he was robbed but they found his wallet.”_

Miles squirms in her arms, making an agitated noise under his breath before settling back down. Just like his father. 

It could, easily, be worse but he’s alive. She’ll see him soon and he’ll be Malcolm. Joking about something and telling her about jello. 

He’ll be okay.

He is okay. 

A little foggy. His brain is foggy and his right eye, the only eye he can manage to squeeze open, is blurry. He can just barely distinguish an empty visitor’s chair. Brown, blurry leather not even five feet from his side and completely vacant. 

It draws his attention to the pain in his chest. The pain only growing stronger. Build it up, shaky exhale, push it down. Alone, he should be able to ignore the burning panic. “It’s okay. I’m okay,” he whispers, a pained grunt leaving his lips. That’s what Dani always says in situations like this. Except she’d hold his hand. Remind him to _breathe baby, you’re okay_. It works better when she says it. 

His panic only amplifies. 

“Hey,” a voice at the door announces. The voice is laced with worry and it draws his attention to the monitor sounding distress above his head. There’s rustling and a blue blur by his side. A cold hand takes his, turning his hand over so his wrist is up. There’s a blurry syringe being placed in the I.V. port, the plunger dispenses something cold into his hand. “That should help with the pain.”

His eyes sag under the weight of whatever it is. His palm stings, all the way up to his inner elbow. “ ‘s… no good,” he aims to pull the I.V. out of his arm but the cold hand comes back. “No,” his chest gets tight but almost as soon as it’s too much he can’t fight the invisible drug snaking into his arm. “No, no- Dani?” _Help me_.  
_________________

“Malcolm.” There’s a warm hand against his cheek, a thumb pad brushing over his lips. “Come on, babe.” It takes a moment, fighting the drugs pulling him down. He’s sluggish and the pain is back despite the residual effects. “Up and at ‘em.”

Blinking a few times does nothing to clear her vision but he knows the soft scent of her perfume. The cool metal rings against his skin. “Dani,” he whispers, turning into the cold skin against his cheek. This first familiar thing to happen in a while. He puts his hand up to hers, wrapping his fingers around hers. “It’s you.”

She soothes a hand through his hair. Her thumb soothes a tear streak, guilt cripples her in that moment. The realization strikes that she’s left him alone to his own devices. He must have awoken in a panic and been sedated for his troubles. She clenches her teeth to keep her lower lip from trembling, the tears in her eyes betray her. “Yeah,” her voice wavers. “It’s me.”

He grins silly up at her, eyes sliding back shut.

She pats his cheek, aiming to keep those unfocused blue eyes looking at her. “Hey now,” she chides and they do this dance so frequently that she doesn’t need to ask him to stay awake for him to know it’s what she wants. She presses a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling when he attempts to stop her from pulling away. “Our son is waiting,” she informs him. “As much as I’d like to stand here and make out…” She knows he’s just as eager to see Miles and Miles is to see him.

“I’ll be right back,” she promises. He hangs onto her hand for a moment longer, irrationally afraid she won’t come back. 

“Okay,” he lets go and forces himself to return her smile. 

For the most part, Malcolm has been good about being careful. There are anxiety attacks, medicine shifts, and bad days but they make what they have work. Miles is taken care of, loved and sure, he knows Daddy’s a little… _weird_ but who isn’t?

Miles is apprehensive at first. The same way small children react to seeing a father after he’s shaved off a beard they’ve never seen him without. “Does it hurt?” Miles isn’t worried about the bruises or the blood, just the IV tapes to the inside of Malcolm’s elbow.

Malcolm looks down to where Mile’s chubby little finger is pointing. Children are spectacular. “No,” Malcolm answers honestly. “It doesn’t hurt.” He pushes himself up, so he can sit up better. It pulls at his side, his ribs are _definitely_ broken. “You want to sit with me?”

Miles looks to Dani who nods that it’s okay. Miles bites his lip, “okay!”

Dani is careful about all the wires around Malcolm, making sure not to hit him with Miles. “Be careful, okay?”

But Miles is distracted. “I was sad that you didn’t come get me,” he admits sadly. His moods swings in that way that only a child can manage. “It’s okay though! Pop-pop said he was gonna get me gummy worms from ‘da vending ‘chine!”

Malcolm’s eyes flicker over to Dani who rolls her eyes. Gil’s done with the parenting, it’s turn to be the grandpa who pumps the grandchildren full of sugar before sending them home. “Gummy worms?” That’s something he gets from his mother. Malcolm’s vice is Twizzlers.

“We interrupting?” JT knocks his knuckle against the doorway. “Brought snacks.”

Once upon a time they were a ragtag group of crime solving coworkers. Malcolm was certain JT would never like him. That Dani would, surely, lay him out for something. Gil would go grey by the end of the year and that work would be awful. 

But that is simply not true.

JT and Malcolm are GodFathers to one another’s children. 

He’s married to the same Dani Powell that once threatened to kick him in the business.

“They didn’t have lemon,” JT apologizes, handing Malcolm a red jello. “I did ask though.”

Gil offers Miles a box of chicken nuggets, “eat those and we’ll talk about the _sour_ gummy worms I found.” He winks at Miles, grinning as the boy dissolves in giddy excitement. He loves gummy worms. 

A big happy family. 

The room has settled into various places. Dani and JT talking in the corner about basketball or some sport that he has zero interest in. Miles is dancing to himself as he dunks his chicken nuggets in sweet n sour, humming even. 

Gil sees the pensive look on Malcolm's face and it worries him. “You okay kid?” 

“Just thinking,” Malcolm admits pressing a kiss to the back of Miles’ head. A few years ago, no one would have even noticed if he’d gone missing. The FBI would be annoyed by his absence but not enough to call out a manhunt. Certainly not enough to fill his hospital room full of happy people chattering amongst one another.

Malcolm smiles at his happy little family. 

It’s strange how these sort of things just… happen.


End file.
